


Think of the Children, Bucky Barnes

by RainyForecast



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Children's Hospital, Christmas, Christmas drabble that got away from me a wee bit, Fluff, For a Friend, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Nurse Steve, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Reluctant Santa Bucky Barnes, Sooooo fluffy, also there is some terrible flirting, boys pls, gosh I love pre-serum Steve so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:16:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5373356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyForecast/pseuds/RainyForecast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes decided, was on his shit list. Officially. And seeing as he was currently dressed as Santa Claus, the threat should carry some symbolic heft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think of the Children, Bucky Barnes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fatal_mystique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_mystique/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [想想孩子们，巴基·巴恩斯](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5381105) by [hamLock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamLock/pseuds/hamLock)



> for fatal_mystique, as a Saint Nicholas/Sinterklaas day present. 
> 
> <3 you, Jaeger co-pilot! 
> 
> Photo:  
> © Copyright Steve Jurvetson and licensed for reuse under a Creative Commons License

 

 

Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes decided, was on his shit list. Officially. And seeing as he was currently dressed as Santa Claus, the threat should carry some symbolic heft.

“It’s for the kids!” Clint had pleaded. “Think about all those poor kids!” He’d wheedled and cajoled, and since Bucky wasn’t a _complete_ monster, here he was. Stiffly accepting a screaming toddler from a harried looking woman, with a forced, “What a set of lungs on her! Bound to be an opera singer! Ho ho ho!”

Clint, apparently, did a stint as Santa at the children’s hospital every year. Admirable, to be sure. But a job suited for a cheery doofus like Clint. Not someone like Bucky.

“Clint. I’m missing an arm, in case you’ve forgotten. Santa can’t be missing a fucking arm.”

Clint had merely pointed at his own hearing aids. “The kids don’t mind, dude. I tell them that I’m a representative for Santa, and that he needs all kinds of helpers. Important for kids in a place like that to hear. You know, there are kids there who are deaf, blind, amputees, you name it. They deserve a Santa like them.”

Oh.

Well, shit.

So here he is, and he’s sweating bullets under his red velvet suit and his itchy beard. He’d worn his prosthetic, just so he’d have something to at least brace the kids against. And other than the uncomfortable costume and the occasional wailing infant, it’s not so bad. It’s kind of heart-wrenching, though. He gets a lot of kids asking to get better, and Bucky doesn’t quite know what to say to that. Or worse, the kids who know they won’t, and ask for things like for their families to be okay. Bucky does his best to say something encouraging. He hands out candy canes, and he accepts octopus-like hugs.  

Bucky’s near the end of his rope though, when he runs into yet another...problem. He’s visiting a tiny cherub of a girl with curly black hair named Layla, and she becomes intensely determined that her “Mr. Nurse Steeb,” who is apparently the ninth wonder of the universe, should get to tell Santa about what he wants for Christmas. Bucky is not about that, but damn, this is maybe the cutest kid he’s ever seen in his life. Enormous brown eyes, crazy infectious smile. So he waits a moment with the girl, planning to tell her he has to move on to other children and get out of there before the nurse shows up.

Just his luck. He’s about to rise and make his apologies when there’s a clatter at the door.

“How’s my favorite patient today?” and oh, man. The voice is resonant and deep and sends a shiver down Bucky’s spine. He turns to look, and does a double-take. Layla’s “Mr. Nurse Steeb” is short and slight; he doesn’t look like a voice like that should be coming out of him. He’s wearing scrubs with superheroes all over them. And he’s beautiful.

Oh hell no. Bucky needs to get the fuck out of there. But Layla is squealing happily about Santa visiting her, and Steve Rogers, RN, is smiling at him. Which should be illegal. Or registered as a deadly weapon. Bucky caves in the face of the one-two onslaught of unfairly beautiful smiles and steels himself for whatever’s next.

“Mr. Nurse Steeb!” Layla cries. “You hafta tell Santa what you want! Please, Mr. Nurse Steeb! Santa, you need to get him somefing nice, ok?”

Nurse Rogers plays along, nodding in agreement at Layla as he checks her temperature and pulse. And then, he’s standing on the same side of the bed as Bucky, checking on a monitor. Bucky’s heart is racing. He hasn’t had a reaction like this to someone in years. And he’s wearing a fucking white wig over most of his face.

“Ok Layla, things look good. So, I need to tell Santa what I want for Christmas, is that it?” Layla nods enthusiastically, and Nurse Rogers turns to Bucky. “Hmm. I don’t know. A new set of drawing pencils?”

“Could probably swing that,” Bucky says, and shit, he forgot to use his Santa voice. Nurse Rogers’ eyes are an unacceptable shade of blue.

“Yeah?” Nurse Rogers says, and his smile is smaller now, crooked. It’s even worse than the sunshine smile. He’s looking intently at Bucky and Bucky isn’t angry about the Santa getup anymore. He’s relieved. He can hide behind it. “Thanks for coming out, Santa,” Nurse Rogers continues. “Means a lot to the kids.”

Bucky can only nod in response, before rattling off a properly Santa-esque goodbye to Layla and getting the fuck out of there.

***

He’s back in his own clothes, finally. Black henley, baggy BDU-style pants tucked into combat boots. He may not be a soldier anymore, but parts of the look are comfortable. He swings the garment bag with the Santa outfit over his shoulder, and checks his phone for the hundredth time. Sam was supposed to come pick him up, but he’s late and Bucky is stuck lurking around the hospital lobby. The girl behind the counter at the gift shop is starting to look at him funny.

He’s checking his phone for the hundred and first time, when he hears a distinctively deep voice call out, “Hey, Santa!” Bucky turns, heart pounding again. Sure enough, Nurse Rogers is jogging across the lobby towards him, holding--shit--the burlap sack of candy canes that went with the outfit. He comes to an abrupt halt in front of Bucky, and just..stares. Bucky swallows.

“Thanks, man.” He has to swing the garment bag off of his shoulder and try to awkwardly drape it over his prosthetic arm in order to take the sack from Nurse Rogers. Bucky can feel his face heat up. Of course. Of course Nurse Rogers hadn't noticed the arm until now. Of course Bucky just had to fumble awkwardly in front of perhaps the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Who is still staring. Bucky’s embarrassment triggers a rush of anger, as it usually does. Let him stare. Shouldn’t he be better at dealing with disabilities, being a nurse? He meets  Nurse Rogers’ gaze. Rogers’ face is flushed. And he’s not looking at the arm, but...right back at Bucky’s eyes?

“Um-do you, are,” Nurse Rogers stutters. “Coffee! Do you, uh-” He’s blinking his stupidly long eyelashes and fidgeting with the stethoscope slung around his neck, and oh God, is he trying to ask Bucky out?

“Yes?” says Bucky, feeling a little overwhelmed. Nurse Rogers laughs nervously and scrubs his hand over the back of his head. It’s adorable. “I’ve only got a half hour break and the coffee here should really be classified a biohazard but-”

“Yes,” Bucky says, “I’d love to.” Then with a sudden, mad burst of confidence, he lowers his voice.  “Maybe then you can tell me what you’d _really_ like for Christmas.”

Nurse Rogers--Bucky can probably start mentally referring to him as “Steve” now--turns even redder. And looks up through his lashes at Bucky. Illegal. “Oh, I know _exactly_ what I want.”

Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes decided, was officially off of his shit list. He was going to have to send the man a fucking fruit basket.

 


End file.
